No sooner had Aunt Juley received this emblem of departure than a change came over her, as though she were being visited by dreadful courage; every little roll of flesh on her face seemed trying to escape from an invisible, confining mask.

She rose to the full extent of her more than medium height, and said: “It has been on my mind a long time, dear, and if nobody else will tell you, I have made up my mind that.⁠ ⁠…”

Aunt Hester interrupted her: “Mind, Julia, you do it.⁠ ⁠…” she gasped⁠—“on your own responsibility!”

Mrs. Small went on as though she had not heard: “I think you ought to know, dear, that Mrs. MacAnder saw Irene walking in Richmond Park with Mr. Bosinney.”

Aunt Hester, who had also risen, sank back in her chair, and turned her face away. Really Juley was too⁠—she should not do such things when she⁠—Aunt Hester, was in the room; and, breathless with anticipation, she waited for what Soames would answer.

He had flushed the peculiar flush which always centred between his eyes; lifting his hand, and, as it were, selecting a finger, he bit a nail delicately; then, drawling it out between set lips, he said: “ Mrs. MacAnder is a cat!”

Without waiting for any reply, he left the room.

When he went into Timothy’s he had made up his mind what course to pursue on getting home. He would go up to Irene and say: